


Words Get in the Way

by Epiphanyx7



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s05e10 Abandon All Hope..., F/M, First Meetings, Kissing, Last Day On Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-14
Updated: 2010-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, I guess we're going to die now," Jo says.</p><p>"Not until tomorrow," Castiel disagrees patiently. "We have tonight to live."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words Get in the Way

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "One Night Only" performed by Jennifer Hudson and Beyonce in Dreamgirls. Um. Because every time I think of this ep, I want to cry a little bit. And I can't help but wonder what happened... after Jo told Dean she wanted to keep her self-respect, before they left to hunt the devil.

\--

The adrenaline high wears off after five minutes, and then Jo's left feeling bereft and regretting her decision. She's about ten minutes and maybe one more shot away from acting like a fool and throwing herself at Dean Winchester's feet, in front of her mom and an angel and his freaking brother. Last night on earth, she thinks, and her breath catches in her throat.

Damn, but it's hard to act tough all the time.

"I'm going to get some air," she announces to no one, but Sam salutes her with his beer and her mom waves a hand dismissively, so she knows they heard her at least. Jo grabs another beer for herself, walks outside to stand on the porch with the cold night air to brace her against an entire night of laying awake, alone, no warmth or body heat or mindless, adrenaline-fueled sex to take her mind off of the impending battle.

Tomorrow they face off against Lucifer. The Devil himself.

She turns around and Castiel is standing behind her, sober and looking at her with his curiously blank expression.

"How do you stand it?" She asks, tipping her near-empty beer into her mouth and catching the last of the liquid. "How can you be so calm, knowing that this is the last night you'll ever have?"

Jo isn't sure, but she thinks that this is the first time she sees Castiel smile. "It is not the first night I have expected to die on the morrow," he says, unexpectedly, the suddenness of his voice in the quiet evening air is startling.

She can feel her heart speed up. "Aren't you scared?" She asks again. This time her voice sounds quiet, timid in her own ears. She hates it. She sounds like a child.

Castiel's eyes are earnest, peaceful. He steps closer to her -- too close, anyone would say, but he reaches forward, cups her elbow and draws her towards him until they are standing chest-to-chest, Jo can feel their bodies touching on every inhalation.

"Yes," Castiel says, no inflection in his voice. "I am always afraid, Joanna Beth Harvelle. I have lived eons and seen stars born and die, I have witnessed life on earth grow from a single fragile soul to seven billion, I have seen life and death and mercy and cruelty and hatred and love and I was not privy to any of these. Every day, I hope and pray that I have done the right thing and made the right choices, and every day I suffer with the fear that I have gone astray. I do not know --" and he pauses, tilts his head to the side, as if he's remembering something. "I do not know how you stand it." He says, and Jo can feel the echo of her own words in the way he says it.

She smiles at him. "I like you," Jo says, simply. He is hard not to like.

Castiel smiles again. He is so like a child in some ways, she wants to tell him that everything will be okay. But he is an angel of the Lord, and she doesn't want to lie to him. "I like you, as well," he replies. He seems almost surprised by it.

"Come with me," Jo says, and reaches for his hand. He takes hers without questioning, follows her as she walks down the stairs, away from the house and towards the yard that is fenced off from the wild.

It's overgrown and shaded, but there is a clearing near the middle, where she can look up and see the stars in the sky, uninterrupted and unsullied.

It's cool but not cold, a slight breeze but no real wind, and Jo glances back at Castiel, sees his eyes widen as he takes in the sights.

"When I was little," Jo says, feeling the need to share. "My dad would take me outside at night. He had to wake me up most of the time, I'd always fall asleep before it got dark. But he'd wake me up on nights when he got back from a hunt, and he'd take me outside and we'd look at the stars together. I don't think he was an astronomer -- we always made up new names for the constellations, always had our own way of looking at the patterns."

Castiel looks at her when she talks, his stare is intense in a way that's hard to put into words. It feels like he's not looking at her face, or her body, or her clothes -- he's looking deeper, beneath the muscles and sinew and bone, looking right at her mind, her soul. He stares at her while she talks. Jo doesn't tell him to stop.

"I miss him," she admits. "I wish I knew -- I wish I had him, still, I wish I had someone to talk to."

"Your father loved you," Castiel says, suddenly. He is looking up at the sky, now. "He loved you more than the breath in his body, more than his own life. He would have given anything for you, or your mother, even, although he would not have admitted it."

Jo's breath catches.

"There was nothing you could have done to save him, no choices you could have made that would have affected the outcome. No one could have saved your father." Castiel's voice rings with the hard, unyielding strength of truth, as if he knows, and isn't just guessing.

"I could have--"

"No,"

"If John had--"

" _No_ ,"

Jo swallows hard, tries to force back tears. "My father didn't have to die," she argues.

Castiel turns his gaze back to her. "He chose to give his life so that others would live," he snaps, and his voice sounds frustrated. "Do not _cheapen_ his sacrifice," he adds. "Your father chose his time. He died a _hero_. Remember him that way."

Its hard to force herself to breathe, to keep herself calm and collected, but Jo manages. She wants to slap him, to argue with him, but deep down she knows he's right, he's telling her the truth -- and that is perhaps more painful than anything else. She doesn't want to forgive John, she doesn't want to let go of her anger.

The tears well up and spill over her cheeks, and Jo cries silently in the night until she can't anymore.

"So, I guess we're going to die now," Jo says.

"Not until tomorrow," Castiel disagrees patiently. "We have tonight to live."

"Mmm," Jo agrees. "I guess you're right. What do we do now? Drinking doesn't seem to affect you."

He frowns. "I do not see the appeal in imbibing,"

"Because you're not getting drunk," She points out. "Not the point, anyway. I should have just taken Dean up on his offer---"

Castiel starts. "He made an offer?"

"He wanted to hook up," Jo snorts. "Can you believe that?"

The angel stares at her.

"Uh," Jo says, unsure whether or not she ought to explain. "Hook up?" Castiel looks unimpressed. "He wanted to sleep with me." And when that doesn't get a reaction, she adds, "And have sex."

"Ah, yes." Castiel nods. "That is Dean's typical response to this sort of thing."

Jo chokes a little bit. "Typical response?"

"We have experienced last nights on earth before," Castiel says. "I myself have experienced three such occasions. This would be my fourth."

Jo looks at him. Castiel does not look as if he's shitting her, he looks politely truthful, somewhat serene. She wonders what it's like to be him, for a moment, to be standing here with a woman he barely knows and to say with complete honesty that he has nearly died three times already.

"Oh," She says. It's not really a sufficient response, but it's the best she can come up with on such short notice.

"The last time I expected to die, Dean took me to a brothel," Castiel adds helpfully. "He did not want me to die without having experienced---" and then he stops, blushes, and looks away from her.

"Um," Jo says.

"We were told to leave." Castiel tells her. "Dean found it amusing. I do not know why."

Its hard not to smile at that, and Jo doesn't even try not to. "You're kind of awesome," she says, stepping closer to Castiel, giving him a quick hug. He doesn't seem to know what to do with it, but he gives her that confused half-smile again, and she grins at him. He's absolutely adorable, she kind of wants to keep him. Her very own pet angel, _he followed me home, mom, can we keep him?_

"Take off your coat," Jo says, and Castiel obeys as if its a serious command. Jo drapes the trench coat on the grass, sits down, and pats the space next to her.

Castiel doesn't move to sit, but he is sitting next to her abruptly, empty space where he had been standing a heartbeat before.

"So," Jo says. "Dean took you to a brothel to relieve you of your virginity, huh?" She's not surprised at all by this. Only Dean Winchester would have the balls to take a freaking Angel to a whorehouse, and only Castiel would be obedient enough to actually go. For some reason, it makes her like Dean more, because dying a virgin is a shitty thing for anyone. Its good to know that he's still good enough to do something nice -- even if it's a weird, Winchester-y version of "nice" that would be downright _depraved_ for anybody else.

"Yes," Castiel says.

"Did you like it?"

The angel makes a face, a confused, frustrated one that makes him look startlingly human. "I did not know her," he says. "She was -- sad, and I attempted to alleviate her sadness, but my attempt made her angry. And so we were evicted from the brothel."

"Oh," Jo says, understanding dawning on her. "You mean you never-- you still haven't--" It boggles the mind, to think of thousands of years without ever experiencing sex. Jo could barely have managed sixteen, and if she'd had her way she would have rid herself of her virginity before then. Thousands of years though, that seems -- unfathomable.

Castiel doesn't seem to mind. "I have never been with a woman," He says simply. "It does not matter."

"You aren't even curious?" She asks, because she's curious now, damn her horny human body. But it's impossible to not wonder, because as blasphemous and depraved as it really is -- he's so much power, so much raw, passionate energy, and that's exciting. That's really exciting. And his eyes are blue, and dark, and his lips look really... soft.

"I do not -- " Castiel pauses. "It is not something I have thought about."

"Hmm," Jo says.

The decision is made before she realizes it, because it's actually quite simple to reach over, tug him a little closer by grabbing onto his tie. Castiel goes easily, not minding the invasion of his personal space, possibly because he doesn't recognize it as an invasion.

Jo brushes her lips over his, skin barely even touching, the ghost of breath over her skin warm and inviting. Castiel doesn't move, stares at her with his eyes wide open and his breath warm in the cool night air, not visible but almost painfully noticeable from where she is sitting.

She lets go, and Castiel sways back into position, his hands on his knees in front of him. He looks the same, his expression unchanged, although Jo feels as if something indefinable has changed between them.

"Was that okay?" She asks. She doesn't want to cross the line, doesn't want to turn into something -- else, the kind of person that pressures angels into doing stuff they don't want to do. There's probably a special place in hell for assholes like that. Maybe she doesn't need to be afraid of that, but Jo has always been cautious.

"Yes," he replies, and his voice is lower, raspier.

"I'm going to kiss you again," Jo says. "If you want me to stop..."

She doesn't tell him what to do if he wants her to stop, but that's the sort of thing he should be able to figure out on his own. Jo carefully slides closer, pulls his hands from his knees and places them on her waist. It's too easy, to swing one leg over him, to slide all the way into his lap, and then she's a little giddy with it because she's straddling an angel and his lips are right there so it's the natural thing to do to kiss him again, like breathing.

It's soft, almost too soft, quick little brushes of lips against lips and he's hot like burning, like holding a star in her hand, and so she leans in a little further, breathes into his mouth, feels his hands clench a little at her sides. Its _unbearably_ hot, the way he tilts his head back, opens his mouth just a little bit more and lets her take control, stay in charge, not just humouring her. Winding her hands in his hair, Jo kisses him again and again, licks into his mouth slides her tongue against his and lets him sigh into her mouth after every kiss.

Its easy and painful, every kiss like a kiss goodbye, every sigh like a broken heart, and every time her lips meet his again it's powerful, electric, a static charge that's building to something bigger.

"Holy--" she stops herself, mostly because she thinks swearing might be the biggest faux pas she'll ever make in her life, and also because she doesn't know what to say. Castiel looks up at her, his expression serene, and Jo wishes she could know what he was thinking.

"Your soul," He says. "It shines so brightly, I wonder that it cannot be seen for miles."

Jo laughs, a tiny giggle that escapes her before she can control it, and then tiny huffs of laughter as Castiel raises one hand from her waist, winds it around a lock of her hair, and pulls her down for another kiss. This time he is the one in charge, kissing her with the curious, exploring sense of someone who is learning something new.

It's strangely intense, having him explore her mouth, kiss her lips, lick and suckle at her mouth until she feels languid and heavy, her lips sore and almost bruised. Castiel doesn't mess around, he kisses hard and intense and it goes from exploratory to hot in about 0.000002 seconds, until suddenly she's shuddering in his arms, grinding down against him and his mouth is hot under hers, opening so that he can lick into her mouth.

Closing her eyes, she just goes with it, kissing him back. It's slow and intense and intimate, weirdly so, like the difference between a casual fuck and making love. Trails of shivery pleasure left behind when he trails his hand up side, slow and easy, curving around her shoulder and drifting soft, dry fingers over her neck to her jaw.

Castiel holds her, gently, kisses her as if its as vital as breathing (and it is, it really is, the way her head has gone swimmy and her fingers clench desperately in his hair. She gasps for breath against his lips, sighs into his mouth.

Long, dizzying moments pass before Jo manages to get a grip of herself for a moment and pull back, breaking their kiss.

Castiel is cupping her head gently -- so very gently -- one hand on her jaw and the other behind her neck. He is looking at her, his expression as unreadable as always. A sharp, vicious tug of excitement runs down her spine when she sees the wet red of his lips, swollen with her kisses, and Jo moves her hands down to his collar, tugging the tie a little lopser.

"Cas--" Her voice is surprisingly hoarse, she has to clear her throat to talk. "You -- whoa. Um." Briefly forgetting what she wanted to say, Jo stares into his impossibly blue eyes, tries to catch her breath and figure out what it means that she can feel him hard up against her. "You ever kissed anyone before?" She asks, hoarsely.

"Yes," Castiel answers. He doesn't offer an explanation, and Jo's not an idiot. She can read between the lines, but if he doesn't want to tell her, she isn't going to ask.

"Well," Jo says, and she feels a smile spread across her face, a giggle pressing up in her throat. "Well, that was-- um." And then she's laughing, giddy and breathless and not quite sure why she's so suddenly happy.

Castiel smiles at her, a soft half-smile that is barely anything more than the slightest curve of his lips, but his eyes sparkle in the dim light and she knows he's feeling the same way.

"Well that's one hell of a kiss," Jo giggles, leaning forward to rest her forehead against Castiel's. "And I-- thank you, Cas. Thank's for..." but she doesn't know what she's thankful for, not now.

"You are welcome," Castiel's eyes drift closed, peaceful, lines around his eyes relaxing when he does. It's nice to see him like this.

She kisses his throat, brushing her lips softly over the delicate skin there. Castiel's hands are gentle as they pet her hair. He makes no move to get up, though, and no move to leave.

"We should stop," Jo whispers, "We should stop, here, with this-- just a kiss underneath the stars and a happy memory to tide us over."

"This is a good memory," Castiel says, and Jo feels the solid vibration of his throat when he speaks. His adam's apple bobs several times, and then Castiel speaks again, softer, his voice gravelly and deep. "I will cherish it."

Even though he can't see it, Jo smiles again. Tomorrow, they face the devil. Tonight, though, Joanna Beth Harvelle has no complaints.

\--


End file.
